Saturday, February 10, 2018

TOM JONES: Blu-ray (Lorpert Pictures/UA, 1963) Criterion Collection

A breakneck,
footloose and fancy-free sex comedy, back when movies found humor in the act
itself, Tony Richardson’s Tom Jones(1963) offers us an untrammeled exercise in film-making; crassly commercial,
action-packed, and, as lustily satisfying as a wench with her pantaloons riding
down around her easy virtue. Richardson’s bawdy social satire remains a valiant
adaptation of Henry Fielding’s classic novel, The History of Tom Jones – a
Foundling, tricked out in Eastman color and afforded a pluperfect
performance by Albert Finney as the eponymous and titular…uh…hero. Actually,
Tom’s a randy sod; blessed with good fortune and above average looks, parlaying
his meager lot in life into some of the most bodice-ripping sex-capades of the
18th century. Tom’s endurance is commendable. No Viagra here. And his
unquenchable thirst for the ladies, good food and fine wine – not to mention
spirited misadventures that can – and do – arise after the husbands find out –
is the stuff of Don Juan meets Harvey Weinstein.

In 1963, Tom Jones seemed to point to something
new – or at least, different; if not to defy censorship, at least striving to
be audacious. As Thackery’s Barry Lyndon
is a tale of rake’s progress in steep decline, Tom Jonesremains declarative of the roué’s ribald triumph, thumbing
his nose at this straight-laced, poker-faced and crinoline-lined status quo, distinctly
preferring not to acknowledge his kind: hypocrites, every last one. Albert
Finney’s countrified gent (the cream of the jest) with petty larceny always
brewing, is the perfect foil for sophisticated Sophie (Susannah York) – a
lady…well, mostly. Tom’s feeble chances to amass a small fortune and support
his beloved in the manner to which she is accustom, is offset by his wild follies,
suffering for his art with some truly clumsy seductions. John Osborne's
Oscar-winning screenplay embodies the novel’s tone, even as the entire cast throws
caution to the wind, casting aspersions, telling glances, and, witticisms
aplenty with tongue-in-cheek naughtiness, never to degenerate into a tawdry or vulgar
mess.

Historically
accurate, yet utterly cheeky, and, possessing a unique rhythm to its rhetoric –
Tom Jonessomehow typifies the
swingin’ sixties, as well as the uninhibited techniques of the New Wave. These
are effortlessly transposed to Fielding’s time-honored milieu; Richardson,
unerring to maintain this kinetic energy, seesawing between serious drama and
farce-laden frankness. The picture sticks its creative fingers in the eye of
well-born and lowbrow British society; each, transparently debunked through the
eyes of our bastard/boulevardier. Richardson
stands antiquity on end; no ceremony here, as he loosely toys with the literary
text and our expectations of the period costume/film-based epic; no compunction
either, applying a sort of Tudor burlesque to this tenderly fraught romance. Distilling
Fielding’s 1000 pages into128 minutes, Richardson cannot help but to condense
and/or jettison a good portion of the novel’s plot. And yet, he remains
uncannily faithful to the essential qualities of the novel, and, with a
mischievous streak of contemporary social awareness to boot.

The major
episodes recounted in this young buck’s life are densely bookended by Ralph W.
Brinton’s gorgeous Production Design, photographed to lush perfection by Walter
Lassally. Yet, it’s the roar of Richardson’s artful lunacy, wed to the innate
(if, by direct comparison, relatively ‘tame’) raciness in Fielding’s prose,
conspiring here to give us a Tom Jones
unlike anything the author could have envisioned, though likely would have
garnered his glowing approval, albeit, with a sly grin and a nudge. The
picture’s opener, shot in B&W like a silent newsreel, depicts the moral
Squire Allworthy (George Devine) returning home to discover an infant in his
bed; the offspring of an amatory disgrace, surely to topple the respectability
of his house. The camera hits a close-up on the child, a prudish narrator offering
this less than glowing introduction, “Tom
Jones…of whom the opinion of all was that he was born to be hanged.” Flash
forward to Tom as the Squire’s vigorous, transparent, and brash young ward,
leaping through a series of raunchy exploits with casual aplomb. Richardson and
his actors break the third wall, addressing the audience or camouflaging the
camera lens so as to obscure the more salacious events presumably about to
unfold from our prying eyes. It’s a very 20th century approach to 18th
century mores and manners; the escapade set to John Addison’s flamboyant score
with a contingent of the absurd.

Immediately
following the movie’s prologue, depicting the good Squire’s discovery of the
foundling birthed by his barber, Mr. Partridge (Jack MacGowran), and a scullery
maid, Jenny Jones (Joyce Redman), we fast track to the adult world of Tom Jones
(Albert Finney); sinfully handsome, but a kind soul. Naturally, he is the envy
of the opposite sex. But also, rather passionately, Tom only has eyes for one
woman, the temperate Sophie Western (Susannah York), demure in all things
except her reciprocated passion for him. The stigma of being considered as a bastard
in polite society equates to being denied marriage to any lady of well-born
pedigree. Hence, Sophie conceals her truest feelings for Tom from her Aunt
(Edith Evans) and father, Squire Western (Hugh Griffith); both, imploring the
head-strong girl to enter into an ‘arrangement’ with a more suitable man,
Blifil (David Warner) whom regrettably, she absolutely despises.

On paper, at
least, Blifil is a good match: the son of Squire Western’s widowed sister,
Bridget (Rachel Kempson). Of legitimate birth, Blifil is nevertheless rather
ruthless, concealing his truer self behind a self-professed mask of virtue.
Lacking Tom’s intuitive genuineness – a quality that cannot be taught or
bought, Sophie sees right through Blifil’s ill-mannered façade. When Bridget
dies unexpectedly, Blifil intercepts a letter his mother did not intend him to
see. Determined to wed Sophie, at mother's funeral Blifil and his conspiring
tutors, Mr. Thwackum (Peter Bull) and Mr. Square (John Moffatt) set out to
prove Tom an unscrupulous sort, unworthy of Sophie’s love. To spare Tom this
further indignation, Allworthy gives his ward a small cash sum and mournfully sends
him out to seek his fortune.

Embarking upon
his travels, Tom is knocked unconscious as he attempts to defend Sophie’s
honor. Awakening to an empty purse, he flees from an insanely jealous Irishman,
Mr. Fitzpatrick (George A. Cooper) who falsely accuses Tom of an affair with
his wife (Rosalind Knight). Other incidents on this very bumpy road to
self-discovery include a pair of deadly sword fights and a chance meeting between
Tom and his presumed father and mother, a certain Mrs. Waters (Joyce Redman),
whom Tom spares from a maniacal Redcoat Officer. Tom later beds the same Mrs.
Waters, their post-coital consumption of a lavish meal at the Upton Inn creating
a palpably erotic spark of ignition. In the meantime, Sophie has stolen into
the night to escape Blifil. Narrowly passing one another undetected at the Inn,
Tom and Sophie separately make their way to London. It does not take long for
Tom to garner the attentions of Lady Bellaston (Joan Greenwood), a licentious tart,
born a ‘noblewoman’ in name only. Tom’s
senior by some span of years, Bellaston is nevertheless wealthy and still very
attractive. She also happens to be an unabashed wanton.

So, what does it
say about Tom, enthusiastically bedding ‘the
lady’ in order to gain a generous stipend for his…uh…services? Hmmm. Fate
catches up with Tom twice; first, rather unexpectedly, facing down a vial crowd,
jeering in the square at Tyburn Gaol, aflame for his hanging after Blifil
frames him on a charge of robbery and attempted murder. Mercifully, the second
blow is in Tom’s favor: Allworthy learning the contents of the mysterious
letter intercepted by Blifil. Tom is not Jenny Jones’ son, but Bridget's
illegitimate and thus, Allworthy’s nephew. Blifil’s conspiracy to ruin his own
half-brother leads to his total disgrace and disinheritance. Allworthy uses the
letter to obtain a pardon for Tom; alas, already taken to the gibbet. In the nick
of time, Squire Western rescues the young man from certain death. Tom is reunited
with Sophie and granted permission to court and wed her with Western's
blessing.

Tom Jones is as bawdy as it proves farcical; imbued with a stylized
mad genius perennially on display, from fox hunt to sword fight to masquerade
ball. Our hero’s episodic misadventures might just as easily be the stuff of gaudy
‘art house’; encounters with town slut, Molly Seagrim (Diane Cilento) or the topsy-turvy
upheaval caused by Fitzpatrick’s righteous disgust at having unearthed a bit of
scandalous badinage at the inn. Albert Finney’s inveterate playboy is a charismatic
rogue, teeming with a Puck-ish desire to turn the world upside down. His
counterpoint, Hugh Griffith as Squire Western, is the antithesis of Tom’s youth
and vigor. Indeed, his gluttonous behavior may be a signpost pointing in the
general direction Tom is headed, should he not heed the call of true love and
repent against playing the amiable Lochinvar. Susannah York makes for a comely
and good-natured lass who, decidedly, knows her own heart and mind and is not
afraid to exercise the privilege of expressing it, defying one suitor to
wholeheartedly pursue another of her choice.
The picture is too transparently ironic to be truly vulgar and far too
sophisticated to be accused of pandering to the lowest common denominator for
its box office.

With so much at
stake, to find Academy voters just as eager to embrace Tom Jones as the audience is quite refreshing; nominated for a
whopping 10 Oscars and winning four: Best Score, Adapted Screenplay, Director,
and, most coveted of all, Best Picture. It is one of those film-land ironies, a
movie to have pleased so many should cause its own director such consternation.
But Tony Richardson has always considered Tom
Jones his artistic miscalculation, writing in his autobiography, “I felt the movie to be incomplete and
botched in much of its execution. I am not knocking that kind of success –
everyone should have it – but whenever someone gushes to me about Tom Jones, I
always cringe a little inside.” Under
budgetary restrictions and time constraints (128 minutes is hardly an epic),
Richardson could not have hoped to squeeze in all of the satirical misfortunes depicted
in Fielding’s novel. Miraculously, it doesn’t matter one hoot whole portions of
text and many extemporaneous characters have gone missing.

As Bryanston Films,
the original company footing the bills, balked at the decision to shoot Tom Jones in color (and ended up
bankrupt shortly thereafter), the picture was eventually financed by U.S. monies
through United Artists. Cinematographer, Walter Lassally has suggested, although
he and Richardson ‘got on well together’,
the director apparently ‘lost his way’
during post-production, becoming fixated on endless tinkering where no such
pruning or finessing was required. Whatever the truth, there is little to deny
nobody on the outside looking in could identify these faults; Tom Jones, ringing registers around the
world as the third highest-grossing release in the U.K. in 1963 and the fourth
in the U.S. Tom Jones’ miniscule $1
million budget was effectively eclipsed by its $16 million gross state’s side
and another $4 million accrued elsewhere. While money alone does not necessarily equate
to an artistic triumph, and despite Richardson’s misgivings, the picture
remains indelibly etched into movie-goer’s minds as one of the all-time sassy,
saucy and salacious good times ever to grace their picture-house screens.

Tom Jones arrives on Blu-ray (long overdue) from Criterion in
two different cuts; the 128 minute ‘theatrical’
release seen in 1963, and the 7-minute shorter director’s cut released in 1989
and overseen by cinematographer, Walter Lassally. Both are advertised as a new 4K scan and,
with minor caveats, this is the very best Tom
Jones has ever looked on home video. Owing to decades of improper storage
and lack of restoration, earlier incarnations were frequently plagued by
inconsistent and digitized grain; the natural palette of earth tones reduced to
a muddy mess. Virtually all of these shortcomings have been rectified in
hi-def. The image is remarkably free of age-related artifacts and colors,
especially during daytime scenes, greatly improved. Flesh tones are quite
natural. Darker sequences continue to
lean towards an unhealthy green bias. Criterion’s
PCM mono is pretty limited, but is presented at an adequate listening level.

As already
stated, we have two versions of the movie to critique. Image quality is virtually
identical on both. Two Blu-rays: the first, in addition to housing the
Director's Cut, packed with a new 25-minute retrospective featuring Walter
Lassally and film critic, Peter Cowie. We also get 22-minutes with film scholar,
Duncan Petrie discussing the impact Tom
Jones had on British cinema. Finally, there is a 10-minute interview with editor,
Robert Lambert. The second disc houses the theatrical release, along with a
4-minute excerpt from a 1982 episode of The Dick Cavett Show featuring, Albert
Finney. Vanessa Redgrave weighs in on
Tony Richardson (a fairly glowing tribute from an ex-wife). Finally, there is
an illustrated archival audio interview with composer, John Addison. Capping
off our admiration: liner notes by scholar, Neil Sinyard. Bottom line: Tom Jones is an entertaining movie; its
technical merits have influenced an entire generation of film-makers. There is
an economy to Richardson’s technique, undoubtedly inspired by limitations in
his budget, but also the result of his unique parallel impressions of eighteenth
and twentieth century life. Tom Jonesremains vital and fun-lovingly addictive.
Good stuff here – ditto for Criterion’s newly restored edition.

About Me

Nick Zegarac is a freelance writer/editor and graphics artist. He holds a Masters in Communications and an Honors B.A in Creative Lit from the University of Windsor.
He is currently a freelance writer and has been a contributing editor for Black Moss Press and is a featured contributor to online's The Subtle Tea. He's also has had two screenplays under consideration in Hollywood.
Last year he finished his first novel and is currently searching for an agent to represent him.
Contact Nick via email at movieman@sympatico.ca